*Under Construction*
Marichelle Harrington Is My Name
But you can just call me… March
I’ve been around for Thirteen Years
SeE tHiS pHoToGrApH? ThAt’S mE…
wHaT dO yOu sEe In Me?
It all depends really, of course I am but a sweet precious rose. At least that is what mommy tends to think. However, I much rather look at my life as I choose. A walking maelstrom, whirling clouds that block the sun from me every waking moment. Light and sanity eludes me, only consuming me within a darkened void. It leaves me bitterly alone, I only have Mr. Wiggles to keep me company. Sometimes, when people are really mean to me, I lose control. I feel strength flood my body, my voice grows deeper, and they listen. Some even run. I often avoid people altogether to myself out of harm. Well that was before I met the Queen. She could not venture to believe all the lies people tell about me. She looks after me in a way, and since I have no mother, I look up to her. She believes in me, she likes me. Well, she likes that I help her, but she does really nice things for me in return. Truth be told, I just feel so fragmented sometimes, I feel so very many things, but always in conflict. I think I am a good girl?
nOw TeLl Me SoMeTHiNG i DoN't kNoW;;
Well after all I am a little girl, there are not too many things to say. But I know of a few I can pass along to you.
People say I have what is called a psychotic rage? I honestly have no clue what they are talking about, I am a little princess. I get what I want, is that not right Mr. Wiggles?
I always keep Mr. Wiggles with me, he comforts me, and helps to clear the storms when they get bad. I also have my little bag of goodies as I like to say. Just a few odds and ends in there. A few tea cookies for a snack on the run. Some sewing things, a few straight razors, a couple candies, a lighter, and a pack of cards.
Of course I have my tea set. There is no reason for a lady of polite society to ever be unable to host tea for guests.
People say that my grandfather was a rabbit, I have no honest idea what some people get in their heads. I get sick of all the lies. There is no way my grandfather was a rabbit, that is just non-sense, even for here.
I believe in telling the truth, as bad as it can be, it's still straight talking. We have enough non-sense in this world without lies woven into things.
I do enjoy lovely bits of imagination, they are ever so lovely, and the day can simply pass. I love it best when I can sit and see what I imagine before me, hear the animals and beasts. It helps quiet the howling of the storm. It helps quiet the voices.
I enjoy keeping neat and tidy, it takes work to look this beautiful and I do not very much enjoy doing excess laundry. A young woman I may be, but it is silliness to work my fingers to the bone. Plus it does cut into afternoon tea, most unfortunate.
People frighten me with the looks they usually give me, they say I do not act right for a girl my age. They look at me like I do not belong, so I came here, where people do not judge me as they did back home. I am not even sure where home is anymore. I think it is here, I cannot honestly think how else I would have gotten here.
Oh AnD i'LL GiVe Y0u aNYTHiNG F0R
eW bUt GeT nEaR Me wItH
- Peppermint, licorice, anything that makes me or my clothes dirty, liars, or anything that will hurt Mr. Wiggles
&& iTS CeRTaiN DeaTH F0R Y0u
March flattened her dress nervously as she sat in her seat. The rolls in the sable textile seemed to never lay perfectly enough for her liking. Such anxiety kept knocking at her minds door, a constant undertone of fear plagued her every second that the clock continued to tick. Her eyes strained as she looked about the room, frantic and ever moving.
"What is the matter with me," she giggled uneasily. "It's not like there is anything wrong with me here. I'm perfectly healthy, sitting inside just waiting for the proper time for tea."
She sank back into her wooden chair, as best she could, and slowly her feet started kicking back and forth against the feet of said chair. A puzzled look remained on her eyes. Her lips writhed as she bit at them, her mouth constantly in motion till something came upon her. Slowly she straightened her rabbit ears slowly perking up high, over her deep purple hair. Not even a blink came over her eyes, she was transfixed on some distant point, slowly her eyes narrowed before they became ablaze with fury.
"Where... is... Mr... Wiggles..." she growled. With a quick glance once more over the room she doubled over on the floor. "WhERE the in the HELL is Wiggles?" she roared. A deep savage tone coming from the small bodice. Slowly the righted herself, looking for the closest thing to her, the chair. She growl as her two pale hands reached for it. Her hands clenched the back of the chair as she raised it over her head before the maelstrom was released. The young girl proceeded to terrorize the furnished room. Vases, glasses, plates, and a full tea setting were first to go. The sounds of shattering were most pleasing to the enraged March.
She would continue like this for a full half hour, only to pass out from exhaustion, then wake up, completely disoriented and confused. Unaware of how her dress would be torn, how the room destroyed, and no more certain of where Mr. Wiggles was until he was at last found.
Reply With Quote